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The night after the visit to the witch's home was an early one, the delegation from Salisbury barely making it back to pick up young Siarl/Arwel before full dark. Kam was bad enough that night, and trouble enough getting him going in the morning. Newt didn't even try to get him into his armor, and went to get Lysanor to wake him up and Arian to get him a-horse, stammering nervously all the time. And so the group (plus the newly-released young man of Arnsford) had to put up with the sighing, grumbling, muttering knight for half a day of travel before they stop for lunch. Kamron is still in Dancer's saddle when they stop, slumped forward with his arms crossed over the front of the saddle. He's singing again, but not the cheerful songs of the trip down. Rather it's a lament, very nearly a dirge. And it's still really, really bad.

Being the healer of the group, Lysanor has kept closely by Kamron's side upon her own steed. Her piercing blue eyes take careful watch of her cousin and every so often she will inquire on his well-being or how he is feeling at the moment, though there is hardly a reply, just that sad, meloncholic song that he continues to sing. She will then often give the others a look to gauge their own reactions to all of this, but in the end, even she knows that they cannot allow for Kamron to continue on in this manner. Not with the long journey back and now with Siarl in their custody. So once a spot is chosen, she is assisted off of her horse to help set up camp, letting her brother know, "Something must be done about Kam… I worry for him."

That, the singing. The terrible, God-forbidden singing, and the especially sad tone he takes when he sings the dirge or what have you, has Acwel pay a lot of attention to Kamron on their way back from Exeter. Quietly, he lags behind to ride closer to the other knight, all the while staring at the man incredulously. After all, he was rather happy at the start of the journey and now, well, he's only seen Kamron like that once and it wasn't pleasant either. "Sir Kamron, what is going on?" Straight to the point, the Woodford is.

While trip back has thankfully not been as eventful as the one which brought them all here, Kamron's sour mood, isolation, and the necessity of having one of the women tend to him at all time has certainly slowed things down. Nevermind the singing! At some point Cyndeyrn, in his pragmatic if not highly emotionally educated way, will decide that the whole thing is a problem better solved before they jounrey on further, especially in the case that any more Picts should show themselves on the road, where they will need the man in good shape to fight. Fortunately, this seems the feeling of more than one in the group, and seeing Acwel dropping back, he will do the same. "Yes cousin, this is beginning to seem quite troubling. You are a knight, and while I do not know what concerns you, it cannot be so bad as to let you abandon your duties, nor the need the women with us may have of your sword at any moment."

Without question, Arian has been quite worried about Kamron the entire ride. She has ridden Banshee up close to the knight's rouncy, trying to coax him into friendly flirts and exchanges, but she has been rebuffed each time, and has eventually pulled away to give the man distance. Once they stopped for lunch, she has dropped out of her saddle and went about to see to the camp, though she lingers near Cyndeyrn and Lysanor as they two speak. She glances over toward Kamron when Deyrn offers his words of comfort, and she rolls her lower lip nervously between her teeth as she does.

Seren tosses another look of concern to Kamron when he sings the saddest songs she could imagine. The lyrics nothing like she had heard him sing on the way up. There is no speaking to him at the moment, she looks towards the others though, to see if there was equal concern for him from them as well. Hearing Lysanor, she gives a nod of agreement. "What has happened to him?"

Thankfully, the singing stops when Acwel and Cyndeyrn speak up. Less thankfully, Kamron sighs heavily, shaking his head, "It doesn't matter." There's another heavy sigh, and he shakes his head, "Not the way I keep failing the Earl." If it were possible, the man slumps even harder. "The way this is going, he'll have my spurs off by the time I'm twenty-five." Dancer stops when Newt drops the reins, the gelding's own mood apparently sunk by his rider's.

"He's been overcome by some thought or… guilt." Lysanor speaks now to Seren's question, though she makes her way back to where Dancer now stands, knowing that Kamron will need some assistance with getting off of his horse, though, she would hardly be any help. Thus, she looks over her shoulder at Arian, looking hopeful hat the woman would offer her assistance again, despite all three of the ladies here being on the diminutive side. "We'll set up camp and share a meal, perhaps." This she says to Kamron. "And then we can rest or stretch out limbs out. The rest of the journey will prove long and daunting." Even as she speaks, she is uncertain as to how this will all be handled and though she has seen a few knights in a similar state, the outcome has always been, well… rather violent.

"How in God's good grace did you fail the Earl, Sir Kamron? The man is here," Acwel gestures back to the similarly-named Sir Arwel, "and we are alive. You rushed headfirst to save a maiden in distress, and you killed a whole lot of raiding savages in the name of honor, good customs, God and the Lord of Salisbury, now raise yourself up as the knight you are, rather than the failure you think you could be." Probably a bit too cutting, but this is what you get when you spend every waking hour thinking on what to do better.

Arian catches the glance from Kamron's cousin, and deciphers it quickly and thoroughly. She steps forward, her mail jangling slightly as she makes to help him from his saddle. She nods quickly with Acwel's words. "Come, Sir Kamron… let me help you down from your saddle…" She reaches out to touch his calf, encouraging him to begin the process to dismount Dancer. She gives the others space to speak to the despondent Knight while trying to think of how she could help.

Acwel says nearly all that Cyndeyrn would, and perhaps he is mindful enough of other's feelings not to overburden with a repetition of all the same, to make the other man feel as though he is being ganged up upon. "We have succeeded in our mission and righted a great wrong," he will say instead. "One that I should remind you has lingered for many years and kept a good old knight from his just reward at the Lord's side. We have done a great thing, and you were every bit a part of it. We have done our chivalric duty, aiding the helpless in the most literal sense, a man who cannot even touch this world, nor travel far from home."

Seren nods to what Lysanor says and as they all begin speaking to Kamron, she offers him an encouraging smile. "You have done the task you set out to do, Sir Kamron, it is a successful mission. There is nothing that could be said or done to change how well you have done." Curiously, she looks towards Cyndeyrn, then to Arian. She could usually get him to smile…

Failed.
Lysanor checked her proud of 16, she rolled 18.
Failed.
Kamron checked his Loyalty for Robert at 13, he rolled 14.

Kamron sighs softly at Arian's request, but he does drag his other boot from the stirrup, dropping down to Dancer's side and letting his broad shoulders drop, slumping hard. Not even a blush at Arian's touch to his calf. This must be bad. "Yes, you were all so very…" There's a spark of Kamron there, and then he shakes his head, dropping his head and running a hand back over his short hair, "…very successful."

"And weren't you?" Acwel chuckles at Kamron's seeming regret for failing. "Did you die to the raiders? I think you're alive, unless you have somehow managed to accomplish what Sir Irfon did and none of us are any the wiser," he says this in a lower tone, to spare Arwel's feelings on the matter, at least. "Don't act as though you weren't with us through the entire journey. Listen," and this is when he gets serious, "the Lady Arian over there will not appreciate it if you keep your eyes downcast like a blushing maiden. Get yourself out of this… predicament you're in."

Now, Arian is certain something is amiss. She narrows her eyes as he scuffs about his hair, and woefully slumps into his posture. Her fingers curl slightly, resisting the urge to touch his hand in a far more tender exchange, but she resists as if to spare Kam around his family — or perhaps worried he would rebuff her again. "Kamron," she says, her voice patient. "Listen to their words… they are speaking the truth." Then it is her that blushes ever so lightly when Acwel mentions her role in this whole thing.

There is this nervous look which Lysanor now flashes Arian. It's as if the group as a whole cannot help but feel the odd tension and strangeness in this situation, perhaps not knowing the right things to say or what to do. They've all seen it before, to some degree, but perhaps it has never hit this close to home for some. The rousing words given by the group as a whole does not seem to lure the many from his troubles, so they will need to take another approach. "I will heat up some water." She decides to tell them, even as she cannot help but keep a steady eye on Kamron. She highly doubts a drink or even a meal will soothe him now, but she will allow the others to speak.

"None of us was successful without all the others," Cyndeyrn will note, his tone firm. "We all fought as we must, against heathen men intent on great evil and abuse, the very sort for whom we are granted knighthoods to contend with in the first place. If bringing them to their well-deserved end is not our purpose, to be the sword of justice and the defender of the defenseless, then what is? I know you know this as well as I do, and you act mostly strangely in your persistent refusals of the most obvious of things!"

Success
Cyndeyrn checked his just of 16, he rolled 5.
Success
You check your Loyalty for Robert at 13, you rolled 3.

The Woodford's words start to spark something in Kamron, especially when he gets to the part about Arian, one hand starting to curl into a fist at his side, for all that the lady knight is at his other side and adding her words to the effort. Arwel takes another look at the intervention, and decides he has somewhere better to be, "I'll help you, Lady Lysanor." Then Cyndeyrn speaks up, and Kamron's back straightens a little, like a leather scabbard as a sword is sheathed within it. He still looks down, and his voice drops, but he nods slowly, "Perhaps you're right, Deyr. Perhaps I've lost sight of what it truly means to be a knight, caring too much what my Lord might think, and not enough about what I can do for all of those about me."

Like Lysanor, Seren is feeling it and she can only listen. Nothing more can be said from her, everyone is saying anything she would even think of, but she does offer a concerned look. Only when Cyneryrn speals of them all being successful together, she bobs her head in agreement. "What he says is true." Reiterating it repeatedly if she has to.

"Good, now that you have come around, Sir Kamron, I want everyone to march on the double, because I do not think we have hunted enough to camp for a fortnight. Oh, and no more of these dirges. I understand you like to sing, but we don't want you to over-exhert yourself and lose your voice in the process" Acwel remarks, tipping his helmet to the man before snapping on the reins of Saint and having him race away, the Woodford's cloak billowing in the process.

And then it is Cyndeyrn that snaps Kamron out of his morose. Arian touches the Dinton's forearm, offering Kamron a light touch of familiar comfort before she steps away. "Yes, Sir Cyndeyrn speaks the truth, and I'm glad you heeded his wisdom." She starts to smile, soft dimples emerging. "Now, come… your Lady Cousin is going to suggest you eat, and I'm going to make sure you do." The threat is offered gently, all the same, as if she is careful whether or not Kamron has indeed recovered, or has a bit more encouragement and comfort to go.

Lysanor never keeps her back on Kamron or the others for long, for she is nervous about what is to come if they are unable to rouse him from this slump. When Arwel come to join her, placing logs beneath a small kettle, just as the Dinton maiden fills it water from one of their skins, she shares a warm smile with the youth. "Why, thank you. I was hoping to heat up water for soup and perhaps a small kettle of tea as well." As the pair get to work in starting the fire, her attention returns to the conversation at hand, hearing her brother's strong words now spoken to their cousin. And then, almost like magic, Kamron's mood slowly begins to lift. Offering her assistant another friendly smile, she retrieves the packages that hold the content for this hearty meal, continuing with the preparations as the water begins to boil.

Cyndeyrn still naturally has no idea in all the wild word what exactly Kamron has done to displease Robert, even in his own mind! But seeing that he has won this very strange argument, it is not a part of it he will question. And in fact, he will offer agreement of a kind, "A knight balanced many things on his sword-edge. We are not made perfect but you are a good man, cousin, I do not think you have any reason to overthink your actions." And then a sterner nod at Arian's suggestion. "We still have a long trip with the chance of heathens lurking in every ditch. We should eat up, rest well, and tomorrow not slouch in our saddles!" He then will gravitate toward his sister too. Because food!

Sitting straighter, Seren looks between them, smiling that he seemed to come out of his more melancholic state. A smile is given to Lysanor and then to Arian, "You have been doing so well, Sir Kamron, and I do miss those brighter songs you were singing before."

Kamron lifts up his shoulders, rolling them slowly back as he wipes across his face briefly with one hand. He glances over to Arian as her fingers brush his forearm, offering up a little smile himself, and then he looks to Cyndeyrn as well, "Thank you, Deyr. Although it's not just heathens lurking in every ditch." Offering up a wan smile, he tries a laugh, although it comes out weak and very, very dry, "There's every chance of good old-fashioned Christian bandits trying to kill us too." As Acwel begins to depart, he raises up a hand, nodding a little, "We'll catch up as soon as you've found a spot." And then he's following the others toward the new-made fire, letting out another of those weak little chuckles at Seren's word, "Come now, Lady Seren, lies are unbecoming of a lovely lady like yourself. I know full-well that no one likes my singing but myself."

Having chopped up some potatoes and vegetables to pour into the pot, Lysanor adds in the pieces of meat which they had picked up at a village market several miles back. With Cyndeyrn's approach, she does have to warn him, "It won't be done for a while, I will have you know. It takes time for the flavors to emerge and come together nicely." Though it is Kamron whom she sees beyond brother that gets her to relax all the more. He seems, well, closer to himself. He's chatty, the way he tends to be. Joking even. "I hope that you have an appetite, dear cousin. But as I told my brother, there will be some wait. Perhaps, you can break bread and share some drink in the mean time?"

Arian's gaze lingers on Kamron as he steps toward the fire, and she loiters behind him. She fusses with Dancer a bit, rubbing at the rouncy's fine coat before she murmurs something to the horse. She takes a breath, and then steps away from the horse toward the others. She loosens her weapons and sets her helmet aside, moving to take a seat near the fire as Lysanor focuses on how best to feed the hungry souls in her care. She drops her forearms to her knees, looking between the Dintons. She does offer a small smile to the Woodford lady, though her gaze narrows ever so slightly at Kamron when he flirts — assumedly.

A smile crosses her features, "I would never be so rude to speak ill of anyone singing, though I did say I missed the brighter songs you were singing. You should always sing, especially if it makes you happy. Find something you love and do it often. I spend more time in tomes and writing missives than I do most anything else, and I find I am happier for it." Seren offers with warmth. Watching the way Arian is with Kamron brings another smile, the protective way she was. "Sir Arian, thank you for all you have done for us on the journey. I know we have had little time to talk, but I do so appreciate what you have done."

If Kamron is flirting, he's doing so half-heartedly. He shrugs a little as he crouches down alongside the fire. There is something to Seren's suggestion that causes him to chuckle a little ruefully, looking down to the dirt at his feet as his ears redden slightly. "I think I'll still keep my singing quiet enough that I don't disturb the others, but your kind words are appreciated, Lady Seren." Not glancing at Arian, not glancing at Arian, not glancing at Arian. And so he can give the half-hearted smile to Lysanor as well, "I'm not particularly hungry, Lysie, but thank you. I can wait." Glancing between Seren and Arian, he manages a little chuckle.

The Laverstock starts to warm her hands before the fire, maintaining her eyes on its licking blaze before Seren's words draw her attention back up. She casts a glance at Kamron, and then back to Seren. Her fingers twitch slightly as if containing some nerves. "Oh, well… of course, Lady Seren… you are most welcome. Sir Kamron is a good friend. I look after my friends." She then hesitates, working that strong jaw back and forth slightly as she considers the fairer lady. "You and Sir Kamron… you have been friends for a while?"

"Of course, Sir Kamron, if that is what makes you happy." Seren presses her lips together to keep from smiling too brightly, moving over to have a seat nearer to Lysanor, interested in the cooking she was doing. It was not a talent she possessed if the curious look she wears is any indication. As Arian questions her, she gives a warm smile. "We have," she cuts a look to Kamron, genuine amusement dancing in her expression. "Somewhat less than confiding friends and somewhat more than a mere acquaintance," she clarifies.

This can't be good. And as Kamron realizes this, his chuckle dies, and he leans his head forward into his hands, rubbing at his temples, "This is going to be bad." The words are a murmur, but at least they're not a sorrowful grumble anymore. "What is it now, two years? Three, Lady Seren? Since I was a raw squire and you first came to scribe for Earl Robert?" He might have the timeline wrong, but he still offers Arian a wan smile, "No secrets, no whispers, but a good deal of laughter."

"Oh." Arian frowns slightly, casting Kamron a look. "He speaks so highly of you, I assumed that you had known each other for quite a while." Then Kamron pipes in, and her dark brows arch. "Laughter is a fine way for a friendship to start." She tries to keep her words light, and she even smiles. "I'm sure that time has only ripened it." She shifts slightly on her seat, and then starts to stand. "I should see to Banshee, now that you're settled, Sir Kamron." She gestures offhandedly. "Stay, rest… I'm sure your Lady cousin will see you fed soon." Even against his will, she assumes. The Pagan woman steps back, over the log she had chosen as her seat, and turns to head back toward where she left her blue roan mare who is currently sniffing Newt in hopes of him having an apple.

Kamron shrugs a little helplessly, "I don't know, Sir Arian. I think that you can get to know someone rather quickly if you try. Especially if laughter is involved." When Arian rises, he glances up, then nods, "Thank you for your part as well." Shaking his head, he leans forward with his forearms on his thighs, "Sometimes, it appears that I need a smack on the head, even if it's a verbal one." Unfortunately for Banshee, Newt has no apples. If he did, he would be eating it, because unlike his knight, he is always hungry. Fortunately for everyone, there will be food soon, courtesy of Lysanor (and probably the squires).